The day I bought myself a packet of Fisherman's Friends I thought I was adding spice into a boring weekly routine that would either have me buying a box of Smint or a tin of those weird polar ice things that promise to be really fucking cold but end up being the disconcerting temperature of dog urine. Little did I know it was, in fact, my gateway to a world of inadequate sanity. The bitter aniseed aftertaste was only the beginning.
The following day, between brandishing the FF packet at various unsuspecting people and coercing them into eating one by tastefully insulting their sexual orientation, the remark passed me that "You'll get brain cancer from eating that". Shrugging it off as no more than a highly personal jab at both fishermen and malignant tumours, I thought no more of it.
One afternoon after Physics class I noticed a group of students crowded around the teacher's table. This particular teacher sported a blonde ponytail, which was able to sum up his entire personality in one striking visual cue. I trailed behind, expecting the remaining students to be huddled around an interesting chemical reaction or impending exam paper or both.
Instead, it turned out to be them signing up for a science excursion! At this thought I became very excited and began querying about the whereabouts of the visit, because I am totally into that kind of thing. A classmate slipped me the words 'titration' and 'Stellenbosch' and 'very very boring' before hastily slipping out of my line of sight. I mentally discarded the first and the last terms and focused entirely on 'Stellenbosch' because I wanted to find out a way to get there for...various reasons...
Anyway, I'd hoped that it was during school, but a quick consultation with the teacher in question (Mr. Job) shattered my dreams and made me want to go even more.
After I made sure my name was on that outing list, I smiled to myself, adjusted my pantyhose and slipped another Fisherman's Friend under my tongue.
-
The Friday afternoon of the excursion, I found myself in a shitty, claustrophobic exam room, sweating profusely and penning a highly homoerotic story about schoolchildren at wartime.
After handing in my paper without a neat copy, I half-jogged to the front of the school, where a couple of students, the driver and the teacher were pooled in front of the school bus. After an embarrassingly-timed trip involving bathroom use, I was shoved into the bus onto one of the big seats which just so happened to have 90% of its surface area occupied by none other than Nick and Jeremy. Incredulous at my having to pull another 40% of seat out of my ass, I turned to my right and spotted Eric, whose leg I'd end up sitting on for the remainder of the car journeys. I discovered later that apart from a comfortable right leg, Eric also sported a camera. This fact was highly amplified as I cooed at his collection of birth-defect photos involving dead deformed babies in jars while the rest of the bus eyed them with varying looks of distaste.
During the journey to Stellenbosch, I recall many things that happened on the bus, several of which I am able to recount without sounding strangely detached from it all. I think I'll put it in point form, chronologically
1) I have an intense desire to punch Dominic in the face. Because he laughs like a paedophile. I share this with Tim, who remarks that the boy in question should grow a moustache in order to fulfill his child-loving destiny. I call Dominic and heavily hint to him about this. Sadly Tim's excellent witticism is lost on Dominic's beaverlike countenance.
2) Nick and Jeremy spot a man driving in purple tartan pants. We point and laugh at how socially objectionable it is and how he expects no one to be able to see it.
3) Eric pulls out his camera and scrolls through the deformed foetus gallery and blood donation video. The bus is intrigued and the subject shifts to 'Old man who dies in a bathtub while his waterheating device simmers his cadaver for two weeks', then 'Train versus Pedestrian' and then to the age-old 'Woman tumbles down hill in a sickening demonstration of the effects of gravity'.
4) The conversation turns to hard narcotics as Michael Holiday enthusiastically recounts the story of Brett's friend, who did crystal meth and as a result had his lungs collapse. I only share half his enthusiasm as Brett is my friend's brother and she is dating the boy whose lungs had collapsed.
5) Michael Daly pulls out his white earphones and I am tempted to steal one because I don't know what he listens to. I am spared from temptation by Mr. Job encourages Michael to put the earphones away. Forcefully.
6) Mr. Job gives a brief overview of the place we're about to visit, something that I hadn't had the luck to hear previously. I am rendered suitably alarmed at the key words 'CSRI', 'sediment' and 'coastal engineering'. Sir then goes on to instruct the bus to be respectful and gave a crash course on how to address the man at the CSRI. At this point a boy sitting at the back whose I do not know the name of bursts into a cry of suicidal excitement. "I SWEAR I'LL ADDRESS HIM AS YOUR MAJESTY, I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL DO IT, PLEASE SIR LET ME CALL HIM YOUR HIGHNESS". The Institutes's pamphlet is tossed around like a defective trout.
7) I pull out the various items of food I have concealed in my blazer. Jane in turn whips out a packet of berry-flavoured Jelly Tots. We exchange food, and the bus is rapt at this candid presentation of sugary delights. Nick puns badly on 'meat stick'. I choke on my food on several occasions. Jane and I yell happily about the night market in Taiwan and how a stall there serves snakes in broth.
8) The bus is filled with the overwhelming stench of shit. Attempts are made to lessen this olfactory assault as windows are shut amongst suffocation jokes. At least half the bus resolves to take this minor obstruction 'like a man'.
9) I really should have put this in earlier but someone started playing Linkin Park on their cellphone. I died inside until Ernie played something better. His knee digs into my backside. I run my hand up his leg as a perverse social experiment. Ernie only yells "STOP" at around mid-thigh.
10) The bus becomes stuck in an amplified version of traffic congestion. "It's impossible to get to Stellenbosch on a weekday."
11) The left window guys spot a half-dead kitten lying on the side of the road. After driving past the kitten sandwiched between two long lines of traffic, Mr. Job runs out to retrieve the kitten. The bus is excited. Jane really wants to touch this kitten. Sir does not capitulate, and calls a friend to meet him at the CSRI to pick the kitten up. The kitten dangles in sir's hands looking very maudlin.
12) We reach the CSRI, and meet the rugged, yellow-shirted coastal engineer. I am ashamed that I remember what colour his shirt was but not his surname. We are ushered into the building, where a man in a blue-striped shirt showed us around the section of the Institute where they analyze water sample for contaminants - 'mercury', 'lead', etc.. My heart goes out to him as I remember that 'faeces' is also a contaminant.
13) The man in the striped shirt shows us around the different labs, each of which houses a different smell to the rest. I am quickly able to pick out my favourite artifacts in each of these rooms - 'Water-analyzing machine I', 'Water-analyzing machine II', 'Water purifier', '40 000 rand microwave' and 'Contaminated waste disposal'. I was saddened that the man in the striped shirt seemed to like taunting me about how my flavoured water bottle didn't have a Nutritional Information label. Michael Holiday's striking display of curiosity shows that he is very interested indeed.
14) We exit the water-analyzing part of the building. Ernie remarks to me about dandruff, which makes me burst out laughing and feel incredibly bad for doing so.
15) We are led to the coastal engineering section of the institute by the man in the yellow shirt. I remember that there was a sort of dark yellow grid on that shirt, but I still don't remember his surname. The section resembled a large warehouse with the startling distinction that there was water on the floor. Several people raise their deep desire to strip and wash in said water. I do not get around to asking why the water seems illogically soapy.
15) Yellow-shirt man explains to us that in the warehouse is a scaled-down model of some coastal construction they are doing in Durban, complete with little weights and concrete and things.
16) On the other side is a model of a dam. Dominic asks YSM how concrete can be decompressed. I am interested as well. We gaze in delight at what seems to be a huge concrete water-feature. Jason tells me someone stinks. I could not empathize, but put forward my theory of who it was anyway.
17) We walk to yet another side of the warehouse room thing, this time to survey a model of an impending addition to a Capetonian harbour. As I was lulled into a mellow stupor by the pretty pictures, the multi-coloured stones and the sickening 'splat-splat' the water made thereon, I suddenly realize I could empathize with Jason after all. I rush excitedly to him to report my findings.
18) We leave the Institute after audibly thanking The Men In The Notably-Coloured Shirts. With our hands. I wanted to say something to go the extra mile in terms of the audible bit of the deal, but was rendered socially awkward by a twist of fate and just ended up patting my bottle on my hand like a big retard.
19) Christiaan corners me brandishing a bottle of ridiculously purified water he had asked Striped Shirt Man for. He urges me to take a sip, my answer to which was a very distinct 'Do Not Want'. Eventually I am coerced into drinking some, partly because he impressed the bottle upon me so, and partly from morbid curiosity.
20) To my surprise, the water tastes exactly like Dominic's personality. I rephrase this more politely as 'It tastes like drinking air'. The bottle is passed around in its disturbing attempt at mimicking hard liquor.
21) We head back onto the bus for the return journey. Rowan either rushes to the bathroom or does something incredibly entertaining, but I was too busy pulling out my mp3 player to know what it was.
22) Kaelin calls Byron Clark. Everyone has a turn with the phone. I do not get a chance to ask him what he was wearing, what a boy like him was doing in a place like this, and if that was a Geography textbook in his pocket or if he was just happy to see me.
22) We are once again deluged with a smell akin to that of the gastrointestinal tract. This time, suggestions were that we opened all the windows. This illogical procedure only served to drown the bus with an aroma that suggested we had been hit by a large open septic tank.
23) I prop my elbow against Eric's seat and doze off listening to Fire in the Head and wondering why it is on repeat. In the background I can hear that Ernie has once again resumed his playing of cellphone music. Eric remarks that Ernie has excellent taste in music and I notice that Michael Daly has once again resorted to his white earphones. Christiaan leans into the front seat for unknown reasons and displays a dismaying halfmoon, complete with dipping elastic waistband and the impending promise of asscrack.
Tim pokes me in the elbow and tries to blame this on Ernie. But I am too smart for his debauchery! I know it was him. I can see it in his eyes.
24) I am woken by an uncomfortable dream in which everyone in the bus is staring at me. It hits me that it is not a dream. From between the music Mr. Job's words of "Can you hear me?" filters through and I am able to extricate myself from a mental orgy of confusion. I pull my earphones from my ears but this does not alleviate my nagging suspicion that everyone is actually staring at Your Majesty boy. Sir wants the entire bus to be listening as he iterates that the delay in our arrival back as school is Not His Fault.
25) Sir asks me about a question I had asked him earlier in the week, namely "Are you a liberal?". I did not think he would still remember it, much less proceed to ask me if I meant liberal as opposed to conservative or liberal as opposed to political liberal. I have no idea what the difference is between a liberal and a political liberal and state this accordingly. Sir then remarks that it is the most interesting question he's ever been asked, which gave me hope that he would answer it. He didn't. In retaliation I did not shift my decision that he was indeed a liberal.
26) Sir restates his policy of never answering personal questions. The occupants of the bus catch onto his intricate ruse and infer that sir simply uses "I won't answer that" to any question that a) he is unable to answer, and b) potentially embarrassing.
27) "Sir, how long is your hair when you let it down?" "Quite long."
28) "Sir, how many bottles of shampoo do you go through a week?" "Seventeen."
29) "Sir, are you a cat person or a dog person?" "I won't answer that."
30) "Sir, do you ever let your hair loose at metal concerts and circle headbang?" "Do I look like the type of person who'd do that?" "Yes?"
31) "Sir, I saw you at the beach the other day. SIR, I SAW YOU AT THE BEACH THE OTHER DAY!!!!" "What was that you said, Ernie?" "Nevermind..."
32) We arrive back at school, and the sky has already pinkened. Sir redisclaims all responsibility for our late arrival, skillfully extricating himself from being the subject of many an irate parent's shit fit.
33) We loiter around the front of the school waiting for our lifts. Mrs. Splinter arrives with a carful of six year old children stating the occasion as a birthday party. I find this severely amusing.
I'm too lazy to write any more; I just realized that it's nearly two o' clock in the morning and I am craving raisins. There's also the smell of burning wax for some reason.
No comments:
Post a Comment